Chapter 5 The Realm Border

The fugitives halted under a lone oak that stood sentinel over a gently sloping field. The prairie, bursting with white clover and thick grasses, seemed much like many others they had passed on their forced march toward the Third Realm. Except for one long-abandoned sod lodge, they had encountered no sign that human life had ever encroached upon the land. Although every fluttering of birds’ wings in the brush sent Roland’s blood pressure skyrocketing, they had seen no sign of the Brookings' pursuit, either. Roland hoped that Cohasset had enjoyed similar fortune, that he had managed to elude the vigilantes and that he and his people had not gotten caught up in any vengeful rampage.

Whoever had claimed that the devil you know is better than the one you don’t had never actually met the devil, Roland decided. The uneasiness over what he might encounter in this Third Realm barely registered on his meter compared to his fear of Devil Throat. As long as he held out hope that whatever awaited him was an improvement over a face-to-face with that sadistic killer, he was eager to take his chances. To his profound relief, Windglow always spoke fondly of the Third Realm and dismissed Roland’s fears that it was cursed with unholy terrors.

The only downside to the complete absence of any sign of the Brookings in their journey to this point was how it fueled Berch’s conviction that Roland was fabricating, or at least exaggerating, the danger.

“Just what are we running from again, other than your shadow?” Berch grumbled one day as they broke for lunch. "It's been awfully quiet and peaceful for a place that is supposed to be crawling with murderous devils screaming for your blood. If I find you stampeded us out into the wilderness for no good reason, I'm really going to be pissed."

"No one said you have to come along," said Roland, defensively. But he, too, was beginning to have doubts. This was way too easy. Why would an army so intent on capturing suddenly give up? Just because of their fear of a boundary?"

"Actually, someone did say that. Him" said Berch, pointing at Windglow, accusingly.

"I did not think it was safe for you in the Second Realm, insisted the Tishaaran.

"I’ve been hearing “Second Realm” this and “Third Realm” that ever since we met," growled Berch. "What in the Sam Hill are you talking about?”

“Hmmm,” said Windglow, frowning. “Let me see. Where to begin? Where, where, where?” He rubbed his stretched, sunken cheeks as he composed his thoughts. “Our world, which you have apparently just entered (I find that so amazing!) consists of five realms. Presently, we are in the Second Realm. The Brookings and the Meshoma are both Second Realm, as is Ehiloru,” he added, directing the comment at the woman. She gave no sign that she heard, but continued to rock mechanically in her hunched position.

“If I seem a bit sluggish,” continued Windglow, “it is because I am a Third Realmer myself and am having a difficult time getting settled in this foreign realm.”

“What do you mean by a realm?” asked Roland. “You mean, like a kingdom? A country? A world? What?”

“Realms are not political domains formed by creatures, Mr. Roland, nor worlds unto themselves. They are places on the Earth, gardens of creation, each endowed by the Creator with its own peculiar laws of nature.”

Confronted by blank looks, he frowned, thought a moment, then picked up a twig and broke it at an angle, exposing a sharp edge. “Forgive me, I am explaining this poorly. Perhaps an illustration will help.” He began scratching out circles in the shape of a bullseye.

He labeled the innermost circle “1,” the next “2,” and so on to “5”. “Here is the Second Realm,” he said, jabbing the stick in the area labeled 2. “The laws of nature are rather, shall we say, functional in the Second Realm. Oh, I do not deny that the realm offers beauty and mystery after its own fashion, but nothing one would call extraordinary.

“The Third Realm surrounds the Second on all borders. The natural world is a bit more, well, intense in this realm. You shall see what I mean when we get there. Some Third Realmers, such as we Tishaarans, seem on the surface little different from the Second Realm natives. Others may appear quite grotesque, if you will pardon an opinion. Each Third Realm people is blessed with one special quality far beyond the capabilities of Second Realmers.

“Surrounding the Third is the Fourth Realm. A land of great empires, noble beasts, breathtaking magical powers. The greatest wonders of all, the color lodes, lie deep within the Spectral Hills.

“Beyond the Fourth (according to legend, for not everyone believes it exists) is the Fifth Realm.” As he spoke, his expression darkened and his voice dropped to a whisper. “It is not really a place. It is a spirit realm. Strange and terrible, if the old books are to be credited. Far beyond our understanding. Inhabited by immortal spirits with unspeakable powers.”

He shuddered and shook his head, as if to break free from the awful vision. “There, my new friends,” he said, recovering his composure, “you have the realm lore in a nutshell.”

“What about the First Realm?” asked Berch.

“Ah, shame on you, Windglow!” groaned the Tishaaran. “So many snub the First Realm and you have caught me red-handed in the very act. Yes, tucked away within the Second Realm, not far from here, in fact, lies Morp--the First Realm. A tiny realm so oppressively gray and gloomy that the colors of the rainbow cannot penetrate it. The inhabitants, I am afraid, display a dullness of mind that corresponds to their surroundings.”

“Let me get this straight," said Roland, trying to temper his skepticism. "Are you saying that in your world there are different laws of nature, depending on where you live?”

Windglow looked puzzled, but not offended. “Yes. Do you mean that your world has but one set of reality?”

“Well, now that you mention it, I'm not sure. At least not according to postmodern thought,” said Roland, recalling the latest unit in his philosophy class. “Or quantum physics for that matter.”

“What a crock!” said Berch. “Of course there’s only one set of reality. Reality is reality. What is, is and what isn’t, isn’t.”

“Fascinating!” said Windglow. “Although it sounds rather Morpish in perspective, if you will excuse the comment. This one reality of yours, then, includes dropping out of nowhere into other worlds? I beg you, explain how that works.”

“I can’t,” said Berch. “Never heard of any such thing. It’s some kind of trick they’re playing on us.”

“Let me be clear on this. The sudden departure from your world into another world is not a normal function in your world?” pressed Windglow, seriously.

“That’s what I said,” said Berch, less firmly.

“I certainly do not mean to contradict you,” said Windglow, “but your appearance here seems to indicate that your world includes at least two sets of reality.”

Berch had no answer to this other than to mutter something under his breath that sounded to Roland like “smart ass.”

Roland twisted a long stem of grass around a finger as he processed the information. Windglow’s story was ten steps beyond bizarre, but after what Roland had gone through, he could hardly bet against it. He found himself actually hoping that it was true. Imagine being set free from those tedious shackles of normality erected by tradition and natural law in the modern world! What would it be like to roam freely in a world where magic and wonders of all description had not been crushed out by the cold force of reason! For the first time since leaving the library, he felt an itch of adventure. He did, however, detect an inconsistency on one point.

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“You say that this magic stuff all happens out there in the Fourth and Fifth Realms. That’s what Cohasset said, too, and I guess I can go along with his explanation of the rope on the river. And we all agree that the sudden arrival of people from other worlds qualifies as magic. So why did the three of us suddenly appear in your Second Realm, where there isn’t supposed to be any magic?”

“There you have hit the walrus between the nostrils,” said Windglow, his pupils swelling to the point that they rather unnerved Roland. It took no expert in body language to divine whether Windglow was happy or sad. Or confused, as was presently the case. He ground his teeth and worked his jaw muscles into a knot. “Such things do not happen in the Second Realm. Quite impossible. Most disturbing, really. I tell you, I do not know what the world is coming to.”

The closer they came to the new realm with no sign of murderous pursuit, the more Roland began to relax. He let his natural curiosity and sense of wonder roam and he plied Wiindglow with questions about plants and the terrain. Except for brief lapses of daydreaming, Windglow was a gracious and enthusiastic guide, tickled with his new ward’s curiosity and eager to be of help. Roland looked forward to exploring this great unspoiled wilderness with him--this land of clear, bubbling springs, leaping deer, emerald woods, and flowering meadows. He noted, with his usual detached curiosity, that he had in three days become more comfortable with Windglow than he had with virtually all acquaintances back home, including his college roommate, whose name, oddly, he still could not recall.

In contrast, he shared no bonds at all with the others in his party, with whom he should have had more in common. The female could have been shuffling alone down a dark, concrete corridor for all the notice she took of the land or anyone else. She oozed such contagious misery that Roland often wished they had left her behind for the holy man to collect. Her hollow eyes revealed a soul sentenced to life without parole in a maximum security nightmare. Despite Windglow’s unflagging efforts to include her in conversation, she neither spoke nor responded in any way. She accepted any overtures such as shared water or rations mechanically, without a hint of gratitude or even acknowledgment.

As for Berch, Roland was filled with pity for the wife who had suffered his company for decades. The old codger had appointed himself guardian of perfection, and he tackled the job with both relish and zeal. Any statement or action that failed to measure up to his standards provoked instant ridicule. If he could drive off the guilty party with a chunk of their flesh missing, well, life didn’t get any better than that. “Hah! Been to college how long and still can’t tell wheat from oats?!”

Roland detected only two chinks in Berch’s armor of disdain that hinted at some pockets of nobler quality tucked deep in the corners of his ornery personality. His caustic remarks never targeted the vulnerable female, and the mere sight of the bug-eyed, downy little Puddles could instantly soften his perpetual scowl. He displayed an affection for animals that was pointedly absent from his relations with the rest of them.

At one water break, as Windglow dug a canteen out of his pack, Berch stooped to pat the animal. “Hey, little fella. How are those little feets holding up?”

“I can walk the pants off you any day, you fat, wind-sucking wart whacker,” shot back a piping voice.

“What the hell?” said Berch recoiling. He gawked at the creature as it fed from Windglow’s hand, the picture of innocence. He shot a suspicious glance at Roland.

“Who said that?”

“I am afraid it was Puddles,” said Windglow, red-faced.

“That thing?” challenged Berch. “Are you trying to tell me it can talk?”

“He can, and I am glad you prompted him to do so, for now we know we have reached the Third Realm.” He took a deep breath. “Yes, this is more like it. I believe I can begin to feel the air flowing into my lungs as we speak.”

Roland’s flesh tightened as he scanned the scenery, alert for some trace of wraithlike activity or a scent of magic. But the landscape looked no different from what they had been crossing for the past week.

Berch was thinking the same thing. “The Third Realm? This is the wonderful, mysterious Third Realm? And exactly how does it differ from the Second?”

“I suppose I painted too enthusiastic a picture of it,” confessed Windglow. “The Third is little different from the Second in many places. That is why I brought Puddles along. He is one of a rare breed that can communicate in the Third Realm. Forgive me if I repeat what you already know,” he added quickly. “But perhaps you were not aware that animals normally communicate only in the Fourth Realm.”

Continuing a habit he had started at their first water break, Berch waited until the others had removed their backpacks before unloosening his burden. He cast a superior smile at Roland, who stretched his sore muscles.

Now I know you’re making this up,” declared Berch. “I think you’re crazy as a loon. I don’t know what kind of ventriloquist trick you’re playing with your pet, there. But I’m not going to sit here and listen to any crap about talking animals and magical lands.”

“I did not say they could talk,” insisted Windglow. “Puddles can, yes. Strictly speaking he is not an animal but a different order altogether. Animals do not talk, even in the higher realms; however, they can communicate. And I understand your skepticism, understand it completely. Many Second Realmers have their doubts. Humans can be so suspicious, pardon my saying so. They would do well to travel more.”

“Now there you go again,” said Berch. “Talking all high and mighty like you ain’t one of us, yet you look like an ordinary Joe to me. If you aren’t human, what are you? A Martian?”

“Why, I am a Tishaaran. Did I fail to tell you that?”

“It’s true,” said Puddles. “Note the repulsive features.”

“So what makes you better than the rest of us?” asked Berch. He seemed determined not to let this downy challenger outspite him. Other than Windglow, this was not an affirming group.

"I never claimed to be better. I am simply saying that I am a Third Realmer. Humans belong to the Second Realm. If you will remember, the distinguishing feature of the Third Realm is that each of its races has been endowed with an exceptional talent. Tishaarans have been given the gift of endurance.”

“So you’re all marathon runners,” scoffed Berch. “That makes you better than humans?”

Windglow looked exasperated. “When did I say anything about being better?"

Roland kept studying the unexceptional landscape in search of anything that might be out of the ordinary. He sampled the air himself to see if he could detect any change. Nothing. Although he hated to align himself in any way with an old crank like Berch, he said, “I guess I still don’t understand the realm business. What exactly separates one realm from another?”

“An excellent question, Roland. Worthy of the most learned Ordunese scholar,” said Windglow. “Alas, I cannot answer it. The ancient manuscripts in the Archives of Orduna tell us that the realms have not always been this way. But at some point, long out of memory, the Creator redesigned them so. The Creator alone set their boundaries. Since that time, the natural law of the realms has ruled the world. Realm law holds that no creature can acquire powers greater than those that prevail in its native realm. A Third Realm animal, for example, cannot communicate thoughts even if it crosses into the Fourth where animals have that ability.

“Also, and forgive me if I am going too fast, it is a further fact of realm law that no creature can retain powers beyond those that exist in the realm he visits.

"You're going too fast," said Berch.

Windglow sighed heavily, then set his jaw in renewed determination. "I mentioned that each Third Realm people has been blessed with a particular gift. The Tishaarans’ gift is stamina. Yet once we set foot on the soil of the Second Realm, we can run with no more endurance than the natives. In the same way, any Fourth Realm animal who enters the Third Realm immediately loses the skill of mental communication.”

He knelt and offered Puddles a drink. “There you have the reason why so few travel between realms. All are at disadvantage outside their native realm. Move to a higher realm and you find yourself striving against those who wield powers beyond those to which you are accustomed. Travel to a lower realm, and you must cope with the loss of those powers on which you have come to rely.”

Roland considered this. “Sort of gives a whole new meaning to the idea of home field advantage.”

“Oh, aren’t you clever,” muttered Berch.

“As you might imagine, realm borders are ticklish places,” said Windglow. “One needs to know which powers prevail in any one spot. That is where this creature comes in,” he said, patting Puddles’ cottony head. “His is a rare hybrid order, capable of speech in the Third Realm but not in a lower realm. When Puddles speaks, we know that we are in the Third. When he does not speak, we know that we are in the Second.”

“Only an absolute pus-head could haul his sorry butt across a realm border and not know it,” chirped Puddles.

Roland grinned. Such caustic barbs coming from a ridiculously cute little creature struck him as funny. Nor was he the only one who thought so. Out of the corner of his eye he detected the preliminary twitches of a smile behind the female’s stringy hair. Maybe she understood more than she let on.

He was puzzled as to why Puddles could evoke smiles with his insults while similar sentiments from Berch sparked nothing but an intense desire to punch him in the face. Maybe Berch’s behavior was a clueless attempt at humor. It was by far the most charitable thought he had entertained about Berch in quite some time.

“Is Puddles always this obnoxious?” he asked.

“I am afraid so,” said Windglow, sadly. “A flaw in the breed. They say that you can train everything about a sherrott except its manners.”

“It don’t make sense,” said Berch. “Suppose there is something to fear in crossing realms, other than your shadow. How come you’ve got the guts to do it when no one else does?”

“We do not go far, nor often,” confessed Windglow. “Occasional trips to Orduna, mainly to the University, and that is about all. Education is extremely important to us. We always feel like a fish out of water when we travel to City of Knowledge, but it is worth it for the information we can gather.

“Anyway, we are in the Third Realm,” he said. After surveying the hills behind them, he beamed at Roland. “No sign of pursuit at all! Roland, I believe you have escaped!”

“Right! From the boogeyman,” growled Berch, under his breath.

Declared free at last from those mysterious executioners, Roland felt so giddy with relief he could have done cartwheels in the clover field. He would have done so except there was that whiskery-faced Berch just waiting for a chance to ridicule him.

There was always a Berch waiting to take the fun out of things no matter what the situation, always there to make sure he could not be what he wanted to be. So Roland muted his celebration and kept private his incredible lightness of spirit. He merely blew out a huge sigh and waved to the southern hills as they resumed their hike. “So long, Second Realm. Don’t expect me back anytime soon.”